Imagination is greater than knowledge
by ScryptWryter
Summary: Picking up right where Season 2 left off, we find Stiles dealing with things that may put him over his head. In Progress, new chapters, hopefully weekly.
1. Chapter 1

"I said no were-powers today!" Stiles screamed as his ball was caught. He had thought it was a particularly good shot, but Scott wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He had developed his own talents randomly during a match, been captured and helped the love of his life run over the love of her life, all in an attempt to save his best friend and the mix of mangy mutts in Derek's pack. All within a week and all he wanted to do was get some energy out, but no, Scott was having too much fun. He didn't understand why Scott didn't see Stiles the way Stiles saw him. Stiles loved his best friend and wanted to see him happy. Even momentary happiness helped Stiles know that Scott would be able to handle the crap hand he had been dealt. However, Scott had moments where he didn't seem to care the same way. He was always there for Stiles but more often than not was distracted by a problem of his own. Stiles had sacrificed his chances with Lydia, to save them all. He had kept his torture a secret so the week of hell could just end and be past them. So for Scott not to let him score, it kind of aggravated him. Deaton had encouraged Stiles to breathe and imagine what he wanted. All Stiles could imagine currently, was his last ball settling itself right between those golden eyes, and his friend landing none too gently on his fluffy wolf tail.

Stiles thought he felt a rush of wind as his arm swung through the air. Scott blinked. In that second the ball connected with Scott's forehead. Scott hadn't let the ball hit him; he hadn't realized it even happened. Stiles realized that Scott was ok only briefly after he started laughing at his friend, who was rolling on the ground in the goal. Yes, he would always love Scott for exactly who he was, but he would have to make sure Scott knew that he felt too. He helped Scott up and slapped his shoulder, which caused Scott to turn to look at him accusingly.

"I guess I just threw it harder." Stiles shrugged; glad he had lucked out for one shot. Even as quick as the shrug was, pain seared through his ribs, passing by each bruise left by Gerard.

Scotts golden eyes flared again and he twisted his head toward the woods. Stiles followed his gaze, where something was moving swiftly. After seconds of staring, a dark figure crouched low to the ground, leapt from the wood. Dark hair seemed to flow back into his arm and face as he landed crouched bracing himself with one hand. Red eyes faded briefly as the muscles in his arms softened. Derek. He stood and his chest stretched in his awkwardly tight black shirt. Stiles wanted to laugh as he always did when he saw Derek rippling with muscles, stretching some tight dark shirt to capacity. A simple smirk slid itself across Stiles' lips and vanished again when he saw Derek's eyebrow arch.

"Scott. Stiles." They had seen him only twenty four hours previously, but in that time so much had changed. Much of what threatened them had been eliminated. However, many of the positive things in their lives had gone out the window along with them.

"Derek." They said in unison, almost mocking his ridiculously formal greeting. They glanced at each other and smirked.

"You don't realize danger is never really over, do you? Why haven't you grasped that yet?" He said, letting his charisma and partiality to disaster overtake him. Derek hadn't even considered the fact they were still high schoolers and enjoyed free time as much as the next guy.

"Grasped it? We've pretty much bent over and let it make us its bitch." Stiles' mouth leapt to the occasion before he could even contemplate stopping it. Scott chuckled and Derek just stared at him, his eyes somewhere between twitching and confused. Stiles rocked back on his feet, realizing he had just smarted off to an alpha of a werewolf pack, and got away with it. Stiles knew that Derek was different, but he was dangerous, though Stiles was feeling relatively reckless lately.

"The Alphas are in town." Derek said casually.

"Yea we know, you and Peter are both alive and kicking and Alpha-esque." Stiles said with a wave. "Is this your new band name or something?" Derek's gaze wasn't piercing, there was something else. A gaze that was almost blunt, that hit with a wave of power, instead of sharpness.

"No, not just any Alphas. The Alphas. A pack made up of just Alphas." That was new. Stiles actually thought about the implications. This could be more serious than both the one Alpha, and a Kanima. They would actually need a Kanima fighting for them to make this even remotely not nerve wrecking.

"What? Why? Isn't that against the werewolf code book?" Stiles sputtered.

"Don't you two ever read? Didn't you guys have Gerard's bestiary? Didn't you read it?" Stiles and Scott exchanged looks of the prospect of extracurricular work.

"Well it was kind of in Archaic Latin, and Allison kept it." Scott said. Stiles knew he had given it to her when he was attempting to let her play both sides of the fence.

"Can you get it back? Peter and I have some information, but the Argent Hunters would have seen this as the prize of the prizes, their most dangerous hunt. They would have more than us. Most Alphas try to avoid the Alpha pack." Derek said as he looked away.

"Go brood. We'll see what we can do." Derek's head jerked to Stiles.

"Stiles…"

"What? You like to brood, you don't even wear bright colors, even your wardrobe broods." Stiles grabbed Scott and pulled him toward his Jeep. They packed their stuff as Derek stood there and stared at them. Stiles looked at Derek as he jumped in his jeep. There was a strange smirk on Derek's face, and Stiles absently returned it. Stiles gave the smallest acknowledgement with a couple of fingers as they pulled away from the field. Derek turned and walked back into the woods.

After dropping Scott off at his house Stiles drove toward his own home, thinking about a Pack of Alphas, Derek, and eventually Lydia. He had lost her for good. Jackson really did love her, and it had been no secret that beneath her vanity she loved him just as much. Stiles would have to let her go, but he wasn't sure he wanted to nor was he sure of how to. Why had she entranced him so long, what was it about her that had such power over him? Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't because she was an impossible task and he had to make himself feel like that was the reason he kept trying. Stiles pulled his hand back and punched the steering wheel of his beloved Jeep before he had even realized he was upset. Tears fell lightly down his cheek. The only thought running through his head was how stupid this all was. Maybe he should just let Derek bite him, and then he would be able to wolf out and deal with his problems that way. He felt the corner of his mouth lift defiantly, a smirk, he would smirk till the day he died.

The Veterinarian's office…

Deaton's. Sudden ideas weren't unknown to him, so it didn't surprise him when he turned the car on the next street and wove his way to the Vet. The bell jingled as he walked into the office, and the Vet smiled at him from behind the counter. A customer was just signing a check and taking what seemed to be a sedated cat home in a crate. As Stiles held the door for the lady and her cat Deaton continued to smile at him.

"You don't know why you are here do you?" Deaton spoke with a hint of amusement. Only then did he realize that he hadn't had intention or reason to come here.

"I don't know a lot of things, never stopped me before."

"Let's change that…" Deaton said, more mysteriously than Stiles enjoyed.

"You want to stop me? Or help me know things? How about a little clarification…"

"The latter," Deaton said with a small sigh and a slight bow of his head. "After the events of the past week, I imagined you coming in today." Deaton moved to the back rooms after unlocking the gate for Stiles. Stiles followed obediently sensing no threat from the generally kind man. The man had a quiet control over himself and generally any situation he encountered. Stiles admired that and would have loved to be able to have it. Deaton once told him his imagination was his weapon, his way of controlling a world he wasn't a part of. Imagination.

"You made me come here didn't you? Imagined me," Stiles said as realization struck.

"Sure." Deaton said casually. "I had hoped you would pick up on that. Imagination is where it begins, and where it ends. It's where all power comes from even your friends'. Their power, their strength, it is all because they believe it and will it to be so. The fact of the bite, the curse, it gives them access to a much deeper set of emotions. Their minds open to that power, and they believe it, so it becomes reality." He opened a cabinet and pulled out some tools he typically had out. He retrieved a dog from the kennel room, and lifted it to the table.

"What does this have to do with me?" Stiles said after letting the moments pass and the thoughts settle.

"Everything. Nothing. That's up to you." Deaton glanced at him before returning to his work. a


	2. Chapter 2

To address confusion. Parts 1-5 of this story have been edited and reloaded better reading pleasure. Enjoy.

* * *

Stiles spent the better part of the afternoon with Deaton, mostly talking. Absorbing what the man could offer as far as conversation. It was nice to talk with someone he didn't feel like he was pretending with. His mind tingled with the words he had heard. It was almost like magic, without weird complicated spells or sticks that contained strange materials, even though he wouldn't mind having a staff or knowing a Latin phrase that could change answers on his tests.

His own bed seemed better as he curled up with his hands twined tightly around a pillow. He had once wished and imagined that Lydia would be the one lying here with him. However, that dream had been crushed when Jackson came back from the dead with were powers intact. Now the only time Lydia really talked to Stiles was to ask questions she didn't want to ask Jackson, Scott or Allison. However tonight he wasn't concerned with who wasn't lying with him, he was comfortable mulling over the possibilities of his mind.

Pain seared through his back as one of the deep bruises forced a muscle to spasm. Even through the pain his mind was alight with possibilities. He knew without a doubt that he wanted something to make the pain go away. He wanted the pain to be erased from his skin, from his body. He needed, simply needed, with every bit of his will he could muster. He was going to be damned good at something, if he died trying. There was a knock at his window as he felt his energy leave him. He attempted to hold his eyes open but felt as if he had run a marathon just to be hit by a semi at the end. He fainted.

His dreams were soft, and comfortable. A soothing power trembled along his mind, easing the tensions of the past week. The dream danced along his memories and tangled with his expectations. Lydia twirled at the hand of Jackson, who looked more stunning than ever, with his eyes glowing pale blue. Scott chased after Allison on what seemed to be a spiraling stair case that never stopped moving. Wolves mulled about, sometimes he recognized their faces while other times they were in animal shapes. But he wasn't afraid of any of them. Somewhere in this dream, his conscious swirled, aware of someone standing just off the edge, just behind him. He let his mind wander toward that, a beacon in the swirl of memories. His eyes eased open, and he stared into a pair of golden brown eyes that on occasion would flash a mesmerizing and threatening red.

"Derek. Why are you in my bedroom?" Stiles said as he stared at the hulking werewolf leaning over his now shirtless self.

"The better question is why you didn't tell any of us about this." He gestured to fading yellow and blue bruises, that Stiles was sure had all been a deep dark purple previously.

"How..? Did I heal myself?" Stiles trembled with excitement. Derek raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on Stiles shoulder and touched his finger tips to the edge of a bruise, the color seemed to drain towards his fingers. Derek had only the barest of winces as he healed Stiles. "What the hell Derek? Is that an Alpha power, why…?"

"No, all of us can do it, but only when we care enough." Stiles raised an eyebrow; he couldn't really imagine Derek caring about much of anything except vengeance or control. "Now, why did you keep this from the rest of the pack?" Derek said straight faced as ever. Stiles only thought rang loud in his mind 'The rest of the pack?'

"Did you bite me!?" Stiles jumped out of bed, practically landing in front of the mirror. He twisted and reached, feeling every part of his body that he could. He even lifted his legs up twisting to see them in the mirror. With a horrible moment of shock he undid his belt buckle and pulled them down to check his ass out in the mirror. He turned his head back to Derek with a sigh of relief.

Derek cocked his head to side, with every bit of incredulity he had ever been able to show in one look.

"What? I had to make sure you didn't get a taste in while I was out." Stiles shrugged buckling his belt back.

"Why? What? No…" Derek said stammering slightly. Stiles had actually never seen Derek at this much of a loss for words. Admittedly Derek didn't talk much, but when he did, it was at least somewhat moving or informative.

"You said 'the rest of the pack' as if I was one of you." Stiles turned on him as he reached for a shirt. He smiled as he pulled one of the striped shirts that Derek had been forced to shuck his blood stained shirts for, in an effort to convince Danny to help. Stiles brought it to his nose, for the usual cleanness check, but got sidetracked by a faint scent of something else.

"You don't have to be a wolf for me to consider you family. We may not get along all the time, but you and Scott have been good allies and even sort of friends when it came down to it." Stiles blinked away surprise as he pulled the shirt over his head.

"Trading in sulky to try on sappy? I'm not sure I could handle a weepy werewolf." Derek's face hardened and he stared at Stiles. Stiles hadn't really intended on offending him, and the pain in Derek's eyes was incredibly clear even if his face was stone. He should have been aware of how much family meant to Derek and that to be included in it was no moment of sappiness. Stiles looked down and tried to give off vibes of apology, searching for appropriate words. "Thank you, Derek." Stiles said in an attempt at reconcile.

"It is nothing." Derek said warmer than his face portrayed. "How are you doing at getting the Bestiary back?"

"It hasn't even been a day!"

"Well I thought about asking you after an hour, but I figured you guys might need a little more time to actually go meet with Allison."

"It's not that simple, Derek. Allison has gone all Darth Vader on us, wanting to be good, fighting who she really is. She won't talk to any of us except Lydia, and Lydia and I aren't exactly on chatty terms."

"But we need that book." Derek stressed.

"We know that. And we will get it."

"As fast as you can, if you don't mind." Derek said with a sigh. He moved toward the window, and stuck a leg back out of it. Stiles flattened the shirt on his stomach and realized that the pain of his touch was absent. What Derek did had eased the pain tremendously if not completely. Derek had a weird way of showing that he wanted to be friends, but it was better than the times Derek had scared them to death with his wolfy powers.

"Derek." He paused as Derek ducked to look back in the window. "Why did you take my shirt off in the first place? How did you know I was hurt?"

"I'm not sure. It could be because you passed out cringing as I knocked on your window. Besides, that shirt looks better on you than it did on me." He flashed a rare grin at Stiles and practically vanished off the roof. Stiles stared after him, unsure of how to react to the last statement. Had anyone else said that he would have assumed they were flirting, of course, he would have then assumed they were mentally damaged because they were flirting with Stiles. But Derek? Derek didn't flirt, and definitely not with Stiles. Stiles glanced at the mirror and realized, only with a second glance, that he was grinning.

"I just need sleep." Stiles shook his head and dove into his bed. His arms laced around his pillow, and his fingers curled into the shirt that hung from his frame. He still had a soft smile as he drifted off to sleep again.


	3. Chapter 3

"Derek says that the Alphas are only circling the town at this point, and they are keeping a low profile." Scott said as they sat at the lunch table. Stiles was playing with his food halfheartedly. Lydia had come into the cafeteria moments before and smiled at Stiles, even moved to come speak to him. Jackson had intercepted her, and she kissed him with a smile, giving Stiles only a backward glance. Days had seemed to get longer and nights were rough. His dreams weren't pain filled but now they were even more chaotic. He had gone to Deaton's to no avail. His lessons were very repetitive and there was only so much he cared about real vet work. His imagination was just fine, but it hadn't been doing much, as far as the magic he was expecting. Stiles wanted to throw people across the room, not just make his food taste saltier and his sodas not be empty. Those were cool too though. Stiles didn't want the gods to think he was begrudging them of his thanks, but he wanted them to be a little more active. With a sigh he twirled the second rate school spaghetti, that he normally relished, and didn't even want to put the effort into imagining it being better.

"Are you listening to me?" Scott poked him gently with his own fork. Stiles looked up mid bite. Nodding slowly, accepted his friend's disbelief, and let his nodding twist into shaking his head side to side. "I was talking about the Alphas. You know it's weird. I can almost feel them. The same way I can feel Isaac, Derek and the rest. Derek says as a pack of Alphas they have more cognitive powers over Betas, but Issac and the others can't feel them at all."

"I want to feel them…" Stiles muttered absently, wishing that his life would change just a bit to make him more special. Something like a water drop echo sounded in the back of his mind. Something snapped at his mind, and pain seared through his temple for only a spilt second. So fast that he didn't even have time to react to it.

"No you don't. It's not pleasant when I actually realize what it is." Stiles looked up at him slowly and tried not to show the concern that was beating through his heart.

"I don't think they are going unnoticed anymore." In the briefest of moments, through the pain, one solitary image had come into his mind. A woman with a dark trench coat and the darkest red eyes he had ever seen, standing over the body of a man in an orange vest. A hole was ripped in his chest, and his no longer beating heart was at her lips. Other more shadowy people lingered by the trees, right at the edge of his mind.

"What do you mean? What is wrong with you?" Stiles explained what just happened, skimming over the details of his imagination training with Deaton. Scott wasn't quick, he wouldn't know what Stiles had been up to. The explanation was concise enough to get the danger of the vision he had just .

"I'm meeting with Derek right after school. I'll see what he knows about this. It sounds like you had a vision? Maybe you're a psychic!" Scott joked. Stiles just stared at him. He didn't want to know the future; there were too many possibilities that scared him.

"Didn't you just hang out with Derek last night?"

"Yea, he wanted to know what was going on with Allison. Which, by the way, is next to nothing. She agreed to let us see the Bestiary, but refuses to talk to me longer than that."

"Cool," Stiles said quickly. "What was up with Derek? Did he seem different?" Stiles asked almost eagerly, he really was beginning to appreciate how slow witted Scott was.

"Uh. Not really, his normal broody self."

"Did he mention me?"

"Why would he do that?" Scott said confused.

"Oh uh…because he's an ass and he would…" Stiles said quickly. The look in Scott's eyes told him that not even he bought that. "He broke into my room the other night; I just wanted to know if he told you anything that we talked about." Stiles was talking too much again, he needed to distract Scott away.

"We talked about Allison too, how we should…should…try and get Lydia to talk to her for you." Lydia had just walked up to the table and almost patted Stiles on the head when she heard most of the last statement.

"I would be happy to, Scott." Lydia smiled at him. "She doesn't actually shut up about you most nights we talk anyway. She's just dealing. I don't know why though, if I can reconcile all of this craziness then she should be able to cope well enough to talk to the 'love of her life'." Lydia air quoted and rolled her eyes, two skills she had mastered well enough to drip pretentiousness when she so desired. The bell rang for the end of lunch and they all moved to leave the cafeteria.

* * *

Stiles nearly tripped over people and stairs, dodged locker doors, and snarled at people who just refused to read his mind and get out of his way, when he was clearly in an urgent hurry. He was quite proud for not making a complete fool of himself, at least in his eyes, as he looked for someone he had an important question to ask. He was just about to fist pump the air as he saw his target when a random foot slipped out from beside him and he sprawled down the hall, landing awkwardly at Danny's feet.

He jumped up and twisted, looking as if he was just as shocked that people were even there, a typical Stiles face, to avoid the possibility of being embarrassed. Danny raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. He knew Stiles was almost always accompanied with awkward questions. Jackson laughed as he passed by, and Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that it had been his foot. Lydia, dangling from his arm, turned and gave an apologetic smile to Stiles.

"Danny, my man!" Stiles smiled as he put a hand on his shoulder. Danny raised an eyebrow higher and Stiles let his hand slide off.

"Stiles. What do you need this time?"

"I have a question…"

"No, really?" Danny said with a smile.

"Hey, leave the sarcasm to me. It's _my _thing," Stiles gave his best offended look. "Anyway, how do you know if you are being flirted with by a guy?"

Danny's head shot around the hallway and then slowly turned back to Stiles when he realized no one had heard him. Stiles looked panicked around the room too, just to be doing something. He gave a big smile to Danny and waited. Danny sighed and turned to walk away. Stiles reached for his arm, and had just enough time to duck his fist, as Danny turned around angrily. Danny recovered fast and dragged Stiles off to the nearest classroom, which was luckily unoccupied.

"What is your problem Stiles?"

"Well I'm slightly ADHD, maybe not slightly, and I also tend to over analyze situations, and apparently I use sarcasm and talking in the worst possibly situations….like this one." Stiles trailed off slowly.

"I don't want everybody in this school to know about me." Danny said without even acknowledging Stiles' rant.

"No one would care, not really. You're like a big shot on the lacrosse team, people love you. I mean Jackson knows, he hasn't kicked your ass, that's got to count for something" Stiles said with a shrug.

"Oh yea? Then you come out of the closet." Stiles jerked back from Danny as if the comment had stung.

"I'm not… I mean, I don't think there is anything wrong, but…I'm not…" He stammered. Words were failing him, words rarely failed him.

"Yea?…then why did you care so much if I found you attractive? Why do you randomly hang out at gay clubs? And why is it that you have a burning desire to ask me about male flirting right before the bell rings for the weekend."

"I'm not…" Stiles wasn't even sure what to say. He hadn't really considered it, outside of trying to convince his dad that he had every right to be at the gay club. Was he? Did it matter? Was his interest in Derek's flirting because he liked it?

"Well sort yourself out, but leave me out of it please. Also, to answer your question, gay guys suck at flirting; they usually go with blatant flirting. Complimenting clothes or the way you smell." Danny shouldered his back pack a little higher and turned to walk out the door. "Nice shirt by the way. It looked better on your cousin though." Danny said with a wink. The door clicked extra loudly as he shut it behind him. Danny couldn't stay mad; he was too nice for that. Stiles hadn't ever really been attracted to guys before. He could appreciate it, and up until Derek he had only cared about other guys' opinions of him out of a purely self satisfaction motive. Did he just admit to himself that he cared about Derek's opinion of him? Stiles had enjoyed saving him, and looking back, wasn't even upset at Derek landing in his arms during the Kanima attack on the police station. What was going on? He didn't even recognize this internal monologue.

"Well at least it isn't external." He froze and mentally kicked himself for making it external. Stiles wanted to slam his head against the wall, but instead just placed it there gently. He didn't like hurting after all, pain wasn't something he sought. It just found him.


	4. Chapter 4

Home was boring at the best times and he didn't like being there often. Today though, he wanted nothing else than to just go home and think…or imagine. He sat down at his desk, but didn't like the position he had. So he moved to his bed and sat Indian style looking out the window across his room. He didn't like that either so he lay in his floor staring at his ceiling. He couldn't stand it. This meditating thing was hard, he was sitting as still as he could and couldn't handle it. Finally, he dragged his desk to the middle of his room and sat cross legged on it staring out the window while playing with a stress ball in his hand. Molding and rolling the malleable ball. He wasn't usually stressed enough to use it like this, it was mostly an idle hands distraction. Better than tearing at his fingers like most severely ADHD kids did.

He couldn't stand his mind going this fast. Usually he was preoccupied with his activities so much that it didn't bother him, but now his thoughts were loud. So loud, in fact, it was starting to hurt his head. His meds weren't even touching them. They were everything, from the Alphas, to Deaton. From Derek to Danny. His mind bounced back and forth as rapidly as the ball passed back and forth between his fingers. 'Damn ball, why can't I control my thoughts like I do you.' Stiles shook his head; he didn't need to criticize his thought process as well as the thoughts going through it. Though, he admitted, it would be easier if his thoughts could be thrown out the window with the ball. With his eyes closed, his hands continued to dance as the ball flew between them. It was a minute before he realized it wasn't touching his palms any longer. He peeked with one eye, and then snapped both open wide. The ball was spinning in chaotic circles between his hands, no longer following the path his hands had controlled. He blinked. His mind was no longer screaming, only whispering, whispering that this couldn't be happening.

The ball dropped. He had to have imagined it…His body and mind froze.

"I did imagine that!" Stiles let a smile spread across his lips. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let his mind picture the ball, and felt as it rose back into his hands. Excited, his mind screamed with pleasure. He snapped at himself and brought back as much focus as he could. He knew Derek would think this was cool. He paused momentarily. Derek? Why had he popped into his mind, and why couldn't he get off of him now. 'Damn ADHD, damn Derek'.

He felt the ball rocking in his hands but couldn't tell if it was his mind or his hands being anxious again. He had started this to get his mind off Derek, and everything for that matter, and now at his peak of concentration Derek wouldn't leave. The ball jumped once and landed heavily in his hands again. It didn't seem as squishy as it had been. Stiles refused to open his eyes; he would win this mental wrestling match with himself. He wanted to. He needed to. Somewhere a wolf howled. The ball leapt from his hands and glass shattered.

"STILES!" A voice yelled from the driveway. Stiles eyes snapped open and he leaned toward the window. He waved sheepishly at his father from the hole in the window. "Is there a particular reason you're throwing rocks through your window?"

"I was practicing; you know if you can throw a rock you can throw a lacrosse ball…" Stiles said half heartedly. "Yea…I don't even like that excuse. I'll pay for it?" Stiles offered.

"That sounds better. Come eat dinner."

Stiles stared at the glass for a few minutes and then joined his dad downstairs. His dad passed him a small lump of something. It was his stress ball, previously soft and malleable, now rock hard. He blamed Derek silently and then blushed.

* * *

"Okay, Scott. Tell me one more time what the Bestiary said." Derek said slowly, enunciating his words through gritted teeth. The abandoned subway car, was a lot cozier than the ruined Hale house, but it was not comfortable enough to listen to this argument for another hour. They had met with everyone who might be of use minus the Argents, because they were a little antagonistic to the wolves and those that would call wolves friends at the best of times. However, Lydia was there with Jackson. Staring at her had been something of a past time for Stiles, but now it was different. She radiated calm and happy, and Stiles' didn't like that it wasn't because of him. Content to have the open honest love she had always wanted from Jackson, and Stiles found himself happy for her, though he still would love for Jackson to jump off a cliff. It was a different kind of happy. Not the 'I have to be happy for her to stay in her good graces' or even the 'I'm a good friend, so I'm obligated' happy. It was a 'pure happy for a person who is happy', happy. And he was okay with this.

Isaac and Scott were there. Isaac was torn between his Alpha and the wolf bestie that he had in Scott, so he was either staying out of it or bouncing back and forth uselessly. Boyd and Erica were still unaccounted for and that made Derek relatively antsy, and more defensive about everything, more so than usual. Stiles was also staying out of it as he felt he didn't have anything to contribute, at least not yet. Derek would glance at him in the middle of his anger and seem to contemplate something, take a deep breath and try again.

"I told you. It didn't say much of anything, ask Lydia. She translated it."

"He is right. It didn't say much. Just a reference to an obscure text someone in the family had found. 'Alpha of day and alpha of night, can break the will of Alphas might.'"Lydia said with a shrug as she curled into Jackson. "Doesn't that do anything for you tall, dark and brooding?" She said with a grin at Derek.

"No, not really." He said as he plopped down on one of bench seats.

"How can a pack be all Alphas, isn't that contradictory, by definition?" Jackson said with a wave.

"We don't know, it's always been rumors. We knew they existed, but we don't know how they work, or if there is a central Alpha. From every bit of lore Peter knows, all we have is that they are all Alphas and they are connected the way any pack is."

"Where is our good ole' frenemy Peter?" Stiles questioned.

"Snooping. He is sniffing around seeing if he can find a scent."

"I found it…" Peter said from the entrance way. Derek jumped up and turned to him, he seemed to sense the stress that Peter had implied verbally. "Followed it as far as I could. Right back here."

The shift in tension levels was palpable. Isaac glanced at Derek, then to Scott, who stared on in bewilderment, but whose claws were already stretching. Jackson's eyes were glowing a soft blue as Lydia moved to the wall with the crossbow on it. She had been training with Allison. Stiles stood and debated if now was the time to tell people he had thrown a rock out the window with his mind. He decided he shouldn't in case it got their hopes up, or worse, his own. Derek and Peter nodded silently and moved so that Derek faced the door and Peter was just behind him.

"How…quaint…" A voice called from the top of the stairs that led outside. The voice belonged to an elegant looking woman. She had long blonde hair, and strikingly pale skin. Her eyes were a dazzling blue, and matched the evening gown that fell lightly to her ankles. She was barefoot, and had two large wolves standing guard on either side of her. These weren't the wolves like he had seen Scott or Isaac turn into, these were much more similar to the beasts that Derek and Peter could turn into when they were Alphas. Stiles shivered and physically let the chill run through him.

"Welcome," Derek started. "I hope you don't intend on introductions by way of threat."

"Silly boy. I am a diplomat first, and Were second. I come to make a request, and to kill you if it is denied."

"Oh is that all. What happens if we just don't answer?" Stiles blurted out. Derek's head hung and he glanced at Stiles. The silent plea was not lost on Stiles but, no more than his own mind could, it wasn't going to tame his mouth. He smiled encouragingly and even threw up a pair of thumbs to Derek. Derek looked taken aback, and then let a sly smile crossed his face in acknowledgment.

"I do not care if you answer, I do not want you. You are not Were."

"Then what do you want?" Derek said with a wave of an open palm.

"The dueling Alphas and the twice born Alpha."

"Why are bad guys always cryptic, why can't they just point and grunt?" Stiles threw his hands up.

"She means Peter, Me and Scott."

"But…I'm not an Alpha." Scott said unnecessarily.

"I told you once Scott, you had your own pack, and you protect them and they protect you. They also make you stronger. That's what an Alpha is."

The room seemed to just stare at each other for what could have been hours, but what was probably more like seconds. Stiles didn't know what was happening, there seemed to be a staring contest going on. The first to blink would be the first to be attacked. He blinked hesitantly and involuntarily. He opened his eyes quickly just to make sure no one had moved for him. He sighed loudly in relief. The room turned to look at him.

"So, will you join the Alphas?" the chic lady asked.

"Can we have time to discuss and contemplate?" Peter asked calmly, as if he were being held at gun point on a regular basis. The woman eyed him for a moment and then blinked slowly.

"No." She said simply. No explanation, no further words. A short answer with a dangerous caveat.

"Ah. Well then." Peter glanced at Derek. Derek returned his look and looked at each one in the room. He lingered on them for a moment, and finally he turned to Stiles but only briefly. Did Stiles not merit a lingering gaze? Jerk.

"We regret to inform you, we would rather die."

"So be it." The words had barely left her lips before the sound of flesh stretching, nails hardening and growls filled the room. Chic lady herself didn't shift, but everyone that could, did. Her wolves were outnumbered by twice as many, yet they didn't even seem to struggle with the mix of this group. Lydia hit one of them in the shoulder with a bolt from her crossbow. Stiles registered the woman tilt her head, very dog like, and stare at her. Two wolves jumped in front of her as the wounded Alpha turned for her. The shifted Alphas were tossing the wolves around almost carelessly, but not damaging them. Scott, Derek and Isaac danced around one of them who seemed to be enjoying it. Peter and Jackson defended Lydia while trying to distract the other wolf away.

The blond woman's transformation was nothing short of elegant, as if she had practiced it, and learned it well. She went directly for Derek. Her fur reflected the blond that she had as a woman, and clashed immensely with the dark haired wolf that was Derek. They rolled through the building, clawing at each other and biting where they could. She ended up on top of Derek, who was pinned to the ground. Stiles looked around the room, looking for someone to shout at for help, but everyone was fighting or pinned themselves.

She reared back a claw to make what could be a very final swipe. Stiles lunged forward; mind decided and determined, and an invisible wall stayed her paw. If a wolf could look bewildered then eight wolves around the room and Lydia all gapped at the Blond wolf attempting to tear at the empty space in front of Stiles who was standing over Derek. They stared because she was failing to do so. Her paws would swipe and hit seemingly solid air. Stiles flinched every time she did but was unmoving. As she brought her paw down one solid time, he was forced to a knee, and their eyes connected.

_You have a great mind._ A whisper echoed inside his head.

_Glad someone likes it. Get the hell out of my head; there is barely room for me, definitely not you. _

_You play with things you do not know child._

_You want to play? _Stiles focused on how his mind felt all the time, the way pins and needles danced along with his thoughts, prodding them away from his grasp. How panic was right behind the wall of pins and needles and threatened to envelope him if he did succeed at grabbing a thought. He pulled all of that to the forefront of his mind, and threw it at her. Her body writhed with pain, and her two body guards seemed to flinch in shock, and then race for her. The last thing Stiles remembered was the three Alphas dashing from the room, being chased by all the wolves except Derek whose now bare chest Stiles collapsed onto.


	5. Chapter 5

Was it possible to feel tired in a dream? Stiles was floating, free falling, but was still exhausted. His mind was quiet though. He was having trouble thinking, which was a nice change, considering he usually had trouble having one thought at a time. This was what his mind must be like when it was clear. He wished he could either keep this or learn how to do this more often. It was relaxing and tempting enough that he was inclined to stay. He didn't feel any need to return. Return to what?

An image, a thought, blinked into existence in front of him. A blond wolf, clawing at the air. Stiles considered it for a moment, and then it seemed to float away and hang in the distance. His mind was as still as water, if that was what he was looking at. He had always wanted to get out of his head; he hadn't ever considered what it would look like. He also knew how his mind normally functioned, and knew there should be a lot more going on in here. As he felt energy slowly come back to him, he watched as another image danced into his mind.

Wolves fighting, wolves fleeing, wolves chasing. Wolves. Alphas. Betas. A red-headed girl with a crossbow that caused his heart to twinge a bit. Then a man who lay under him, beaten, lost, if not for the air between Stiles and a blond wolf. The series of images froze, and split around him. Shards of crystals each holding a face. Names began to link to these faces. He knew them. Dad. Lydia. Scott. Isaac. People he cared about, people that cared about him. A few crystals spun too fast. He couldn't understand why. He couldn't understand them because he didn't understand them. He reached for one. It slowed and more images wove around him. Deaton's smiling face, teaching him about his imagination, his power. He was useful, he could make things happen, in a world where things tended to happen _to_ him. He was useful.

The images faded back into a crystalline form. The last crystal spun more rapidly. On some level he was afraid to touch it. He was afraid to understand it. What fear was there in understanding? He reached for it. Pins and needles. Panic. He pulled his hand back and took a breath. He shouldn't be panicking. His mind was his world. He knew everything that existed and hopefully had gained some margin of control. He tapped the crystal with his finger, quickly, as if it would bite him if he lingered. The thought slowed and a dark figure shimmered in it. He knew the face. He knew the name. He knew why this had caused panic.

Images streamed around him. Derek's face. Brooding. The rare grin. The first time he had been forced to save him. Keeping Derek alive meant keeping himself alive. Keeping Derek alive meant Derek would still be there. Seeing past the pain and fear that he held so close.

His free falling sped. He was coming alive, energy was returning to his body. The images of Derek didn't fade. They wrapped themselves closer. Protecting him? Could Derek's influence reach this far? Was it the way Stiles thought of Derek? The images continued. A shirtless Derek standing in his room. A shirtless Derek lying beneath him while he warred with the Blond Alpha.

Stiles felt warmth, wrapping tightly around him. A light exploded over him. He drifted toward it. He knew this light. He had felt similar power when Derek had healed his wounds. As the light engulfed him, the real world blinked to life in front of him. The room was dark. He was lying in his bed at home. Someone was asleep in a chair across the room.

"Derek?" The mass in the chair moved and the jacket slid to the floor.

"No, it's me." Lydia called gently to him.

* * *

"Oh. Hi."

"Hey, how are you feeling?" She asked as she moved next to him, offering him a bottle of water.

"I don't know. It's like the world is moving at half the speed it normally does. What's happened?"

"Your dad was kind of furious. Derek, Peter, and Scott explained everything to him. He took it fairly well, but hasn't been happy that you were hurt. He enjoys talking to me, but I think it's because he sees me as the only normal one." She smiled lightly. "Deaton came by."

"Yea?" Stiles felt empty and full at the same time. He was comfortable but exhausted. He wasn't at his normal speed. He wasn't as quick to use wit because it simply wasn't there.

"Deaton said what you did, while not unheard of, was impressive. He knew you could use power the way he did, but he wouldn't have even attempted what you accomplished. He also seems to know more about the Alpha's than the pack does."

"Oh yea… them."

"Yes. You seem tired, do you want to sleep some more?"

"I'm not sure; it's not that much more beneficial really."

"Oh. I was hoping Derek would help with that. He was doing his wolf healing thing earlier. He'll be glad to know it's helped. He has been a chaotic storm of emotions."

"How long, exactly, have I been out?"

"Two days. But it's felt longer. We've been taking shifts waiting for you. Peter says whatever you did to the blond bitch, no pun intended, has scared them enough for them to back off. You seem to be something no one has ever seen. You're special." She touched his cheek and he smiled.

"Well I always knew that, I'm glad everyone else finally caught up." Stiles chuckled. He could feel his mind speeding up. Every piece of information she gave him gave his mind something to feed on. Something to toss around and something to panic about. Lydia smiled at him.

"Were you dreaming for two days?" Lydia said with more than a bit of mischievousness in her eyes.

"Why? Was I talking?" Had there been anything incriminating?

"No. It was something else. Emotions were coming off you in waves."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that you aren't the only person with a secret mentor, and you aren't the only one who has felt useless in the past."

"You've been training with Deaton?"

"No. The School guidance counselor. Apparently, I worked so hard at shutting everyone else out of my life that when I got bit and started going crazy, I not only let people in but was overly sensitive to the emotions of others. It's how Peter could use me, and how I knew what you were feeling while you were asleep."

"So the guidance counselor has magic too? You think you know a town… until it bites you…"

"No kidding. Scott ran into her at Deaton's. That awkward situation led to the fact that she's Deaton's sister."

"Wow. So what emotions were you picking up from me?"

"A really heavy calm. Then something that felt like love." She eyes him accusingly.

"Love?" Oh. No. No? Was that what that was? Was that why Derek made him panic so much. Did he love…Derek?


	6. Chapter 6

Hey! So it has been a minute since my last post, and for that I apologize. However, I have this and the 'last' chapter done and ready to go. One through five have been edited and uploaded again for better reading.

Thanks!

* * *

Looking at the mirror, Stiles just stared, letting his thoughts slide through his mind. Love. That was simply ridiculous. He couldn't be in love with that oaf. That broody oaf. Everyone in the world, including him, felt comfortable with the fact that Stiles simply couldn't be gay. His dad had said it. Scott hadn't even humored the idea. Even Danny ignored Stiles' attempts to gauge how attractive he was all around. Though, Danny did practically accuse him of being in the closet. He had obsessed with Derek a little that day…and other days. Why had he gotten upset when Derek's eyes hadn't lingered on him? Maybe it wasn't about being gay?

But, of course it was. How could it not be? Some part of him had to be gay for Derek. The question was could he be okay with that? More terrifying, would Derek be interested back? Derek had relations with a female before so there was no reason to think he was anything but interested in the opposite sex. Though Danny had said blatant complimenting was a good sign. Why was this so confoundingly hard? Who cared if he liked Derek like that, it wasn't like he was ready to jump his bones…

Stiles felt something stir below and he gave himself his most incredulous face.

"Seriously. My own body can see it where I can't."

"See what?" Stiles spun around and looked at his dad.

"Good thing I wasn't naked." It was more of an internal thankfulness than a sarcastic quip. Though it worked on both levels apparently.

"I don't think I care to see that." His dad gave a half smile. "Can we talk?"

"Yea sure, I've had that ability since I was four or so. I like using it too. Need some pointers?" Stiles rambling only merited an arched eye brow and a heavy sigh from his dad. Though he looked relieved.

"Well I'm glad your mouth wasn't damaged, but you're wrong about something. You've had the ability to talk since you were one, and believe me you haven't ever stopped using it." Stiles beamed at his dad, because his dad hadn't said it with anger or condescension, rather with pride.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"Well you're best friend and a wanted criminal told me they are werewolves less than a week ago, after bringing you back unconscious. Then the town vet tried to explain to me you had exhausted yourself using some type of defensive magic against some bigger, badder werewolves that are threatening you guys and the town. The only person who doesn't seem to be involved and/or for that matter supernatural is Scott's girlfriend." He had never seen his dad ramble quite like that, unless he had a few shots him.

"Oh…well. Her and her entire family are werewolf hunters."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding." He watched as his dad sat down on the edge of his bed and rested his head in his hands. "I'm sorry dad. Telling you would have made everything so much easier, and so much harder. I should have never put you in this danger."

"Son, I'd rather my being in it with you, then either by ourselves."

"I know. Ask me anything. I'll tell you the truth."

"Thank you."

The next hour was spent relaying all of the strange situations Stiles had gotten mixed up in, including the ones where his dad found him in compromising situations. The only topic he tried to avoid was detailing his growing friendship with the pack and Derek. He also had to convince his dad that it was safe for him to leave the house. It had resulted in him explaining how the lacrosse ball had turned into a rock and flown out the window. Luckily he hadn't wanted a demonstration. As Stiles left his dad's house even he had to admit he wasn't sure where he stood with control and energy level quite yet.

* * *

He didn't really have the opportunity to see where his control was at though. As he slowly drove down the back road to the lacrosse field a blond woman stood in the middle of the road. Stiles almost whimpered. He put the jeep in reverse and turned to back out. Two guys, not much older than himself, stood behind him smirking. Damn it. He hadn't called Scott yet to see if he wanted to practice.

"We only want to talk." The woman said as Stiles stepped out of his Jeep.

"Right. I've heard that before. You are good at the 'tell me what I want or die' routine. Though, truth be told, that doesn't usually work for the other half of your conversation party." Stiles searched for that place of power, the pins and needles he had used before, his panic. However, he wasn't panicking. He was actually fairly calm, all things considered.

"I come with no threats. You have a great power, and we aren't prepared to fight with you today. We come to offer you an alliance." Well obviously they had more confidence in Stiles' power then he himself did, there was no problem in letting them think that was right.

"Ummm. No? You tried to kill all of us. Why would you think we would want to align with you now?" Stiles scoffed.

"Not all of you. We only want alphas. However, we think with your power, we could cultivate an even powerful pack. Your power would amplify ours better than a beta does an alpha. We also believe an allegiance would work to amplify yours too."

"You want me to join your pack? I don't do well with following orders."

"You wouldn't have too. Who could tell you what to do? You could cage anyone who dare challenge you. Only the master alpha would be able to contend with you." She smiled a sad smile. Stiles registered that she was ashamed to be here, she had been made to come.

"Why not just bite me? Turn me into a pup of yours." That was the last thing he wanted. Though he didn't really understand their offer. He knew he was effectively part of Scott's pack. He had always thought it was just words though. A way of looking at them. Scott wasn't actually an alpha of their pack…was he?

"People with your potential…always survive a bite, but often lose the source of their power in the process. You would become…less if you didn't become more."

"No duh…that's pretty much the only two options there."

A piercing howl sounded in the woods behind the school. It wasn't Derek's or Scott's. He wasn't sure how that had registered so decidedly but he knew for sure it wasn't them. Panic settled in like an old friend, and Stiles grinned. Welcoming it and throwing it around him like a cylinder. He turned slowly and realized the two males were just outside his barrier. Snarling at him.

"Leave." The blond woman said. He watched as they begrudgingly shifted and raced to the woods. "Think of our offer. You won't get a chance to say no twice." She whispered. She had also moved quickly to the edge of his barrier. He realized she wasn't old, perhaps only a few years older than him. Or at least she looked that way. "I don't want to kill you. You have a lot of potential. I've felt your mind. I could help you harness it."

"I'm doing okay at the moment. I've kept you and your mutts at bay twice now. Next time, I may take your advice, and cage you. Or better yet stop your power." He had no idea if he could actually make good on his threat, but he wasn't going to show his bluff. He needed her to be terrified of him. The widening of her eyes told him she had believed he could. That was enough for him, and her too apparently, as she raced off.


	7. Chapter 7

So this is the 'last' chapter. I say that because it was where my mind ended it when I imagined the story. I have had requests for it not to end here, and I would like to request your opinions. I also would like to see where the show goes, because I like to stick to canon as much as I can.

* * *

Stiles just sat. He was so very done with people, fighting, and his 'imagination.' At least when he was useless he knew where he stood. He would run away, and/or save Derek's dumb self. Now that he was 'useful' there were choices and decisions. He didn't like those in the mundane side of his life, the supernatural ones sucked worse so far. Sitting in the middle of the dirt road in front of his jeep was probably weird. He didn't care. He didn't want to care. He did notice when someone was standing just off the field. He felt the shift. He didn't even turn to acknowledge Derek as he approached.

"Stiles? What are you doing?"

"Ignoring the world. You're not helping." Stiles said dryly and with seriousness he didn't often intone.

"Oh. Sorry." Derek said, slightly confused.

"Yea. No." Stiles wasn't even sure if his response made sense.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Derek had concern in his voice. Stiles wasn't sure how that made him feel. He felt broken and it hurt. Derek could heal his physical wounds, but his mind was scarred by years of pins and needles and the most confusing painful week he had ever had. Stiles stood and slowly turned to face Derek. He registered the trademark tight black shirt, and a pair of rather tight fitting jeans. Stiles eyes danced up Derek's body quickly, lingering in key places, until they locked onto Derek's eyes. Briefly he wondered about his options. However. He had decided. He knew what he wanted to do.

He lunged forward and swung his fist at Derek's jaw. Derek's hand caught his, and all but dangled Stiles. Stiles felt tears wall up in his eyes, but despite the pain he refused to cry. It would solve nothing. Hitting Derek, only a mildly better option, was what he wanted to do. Derek seemed to register a lot as he searched Stiles' eyes.

"Hitting me won't make it better." No shit. Stiles knew that. He logically knew it wouldn't solve anything but he didn't want to think. He wanted to pretend he was strong enough to handle things. "But, if it makes you feel better, I do heal faster than most." Derek's smile was sincere, and after letting Stiles arm go, he stood still waiting.

"I wouldn't want to hurt that pretty face." Stiles said with a smirk.

"Oh I doubt you could." Derek chuckled. Stiles felt his own eye brow arch. He tapped into his own imagination, and let the idea of Derek flying across the road fill him as he swung again. Derek was mid chuckle as Stiles fist connected and all the power behind his punch sent Derek sprawling across not only the road but tumbling into the bushes at the edge of the woods. Stiles smirk was genuine this time as he struggled to keep from laughing. Derek stood defensively, wolfed out, looking livid.

"Oh no…you taunted me…that's you're fault." Stiles held up his hands defensively. Derek's speed blurred him as he raced to stand in front of Stiles. He gripped Stiles hands which forced him to cringe a second. "Get control of yourself. You're the one who healed my bruises, you're going to cause more work for yourself." Stiles tried to smile, but Derek was lost in the rage for this moment. Stiles registered his eyes were almost entirely red; no longer did they hold any humanity that normally kept Derek sane. Stile's hit had forced a near full moon reaction.

"Derek," Stile said, his voice mixed with fear, guilt and sadness. "Derek. Listen to my voice." Stiles felt his own emotion filling the void he had left after keeping the alphas at bay. Derek's hand loosened only for a second. Quick enough that Stiles was able to reach up and put his hand on the side of Derek's face. A gentle push, a stroke running through all of the wolf hair that had mixed with Derek's own. A visible shudder ran through his body and the red in his eyes seemed to waver. Stiles willed his hand to brush away the wolf, to push it back down to where ever it stayed when Derek was sane. Each stroke seemed to remove more hair. It simply melted away, or retreated back into his body, every time Stiles moved his hand. Derek's hand dropped to the side of his body, and his head hung limp as he gained more and more control back. Stiles' hand continued its motion, gently stroking Derek's hair.

"Stiles…" Derek whispered.

"Derek its ok…" Stiles shushed him gently.

"Stiles…" His voice a little louder now. "Stiles, are you petting me?"

They both froze. Derek shook with silent laughter, and Stiles not-so-real anger bubbled forth again. Stiles snapped his hand back to his side.

"I was trying to keep you from ripping me apart; I like living, kinda addicted to it actually. You seemed to have broken that control you're known for."

Stiles went to step back, to move away from Derek, to leave. An arm reached around him before he could get too far.

"I'm sorry." Derek pulled him closer. Stiles' panic rose. His imagination firing off wild scenarios. "One of the things that anchors me just threw me across the field. That tends to cause the opposite reaction." Derek and Stiles were touching. Derek was looking down at Stiles who was dazed in the moment. "For the record, I liked the petting…" Derek leaned and kissed Stiles gently. Stiles' panic froze, and vanished suddenly, replaced by comfortable warmth.


End file.
